Morte Kinder
by I'm Not Wearing Any Pants
Summary: A sad tale of crying fits, and out of character behavior.


I do not own TSS, nor do I claim. There's a grand total of 36 Argost inclusive stories here, now that, um...somebody, surprisingly, but perhaps none too surprisingly, chose to remove all their dreck, er, ah, I mean...epic masterpieces of literary composure...and move on to fetishizing a new unfortunate series with an evil old man with long white hair. 36 stories, instead of 600. Well, I have a lot of backed up septic matter to post scathing deconstructive-reconstructive, generally silly and ugly parodies of. Enjoy! Or, don't. Either way, I'm keeping busy. And myself saturated with Kahlua in order to keep doing this, in order to not be consumed with violent PTFSD flashbacks. That stands for "Post Traumatic Fandom Stress Disorder."

MORTE KINDER

Old man McPherson sobbed hysterically while driving far over the speed limit, one rainy evening. He wasn't sure if it was the rain, or his own waterfall of tears obscuring his view, but either way, he cared not. This story wasn't about him. He was a simple plot device to move the story forward on its disjointed journey towards an inevitable sobfest conclusion.

"Oh, my poor dead wife, who died of my favorite tragic plot device for making easy tragic deaths...THE CANCER!"

He flipped the car over the railing, and fell down a large hill, eventually coming into contact with a tall oak. When he awoke, he found a white haired angel standing over him.

"GURFLUNGA, GURFLUNGA DUNGAH!" he blurted incoherently, as per his concussion.

"Um. What?" the white haired woman in a very tight orange and black body suit questioned.

"Sorry, my kidney was lodged in my throat," he spoke, after coughing a few times. "I'm dying. And now I shall die. Oh, and there's probably a cryptid, or something, that never appeared on the show yet, and is just another plot device to murder one of the canon characters so the other can hysterically cry about it. Remember that whole Popobawa recall incident? I do. Ha ha...a cryptid based in violent anal sex attacks. Talk about a PR fuck up." He then let out a brutal gagging sound, and slammed his head against the steering wheel. His body was limp, in death.

"Well, he didn't officially name the cryptid, but it doesn't matter a whole lot," said Drew Saturday. "Somebody else is going to die a tragic death."

"I want to watch WEIRD WORLD!" Zak Saturday protested loudly. "It's the only thing that gives my life meaning, for some reason!"

"Zak, you know you're not supposed to watch that pseudo-scientific drivel," said that one black guy who hung around with them all sometimes. But most times, not.

"But it's my favorite show. It's a good show. I like the show," Zak babbled.

"This cryptid has been killing people tragically," Drew spoke. She placed a hand to her ear. "And there it is now, making related cryptid sounds! Hark!"

Everyone paused and gasped.

"Maybe it's a normal, everyday sound," Zak said. He placed The Claw in his mouth, and began to suck. "I wish this thing was made out of chocolate."

Fiskerton grunted, to make known that he was in the story.

Suddenly, the cryptid appeared in front of the group. It insisted on acting like a big weirdo, waving its hairy arms and legs at the group, while dancing, and babbling wildly.

"Stupid statement used as a means of comedy, but it isn't funny at all, and makes me sound like an idiot," Zak shouted.

Fiskerton shit himself in fear, and fell to his knees.

"Somebody's going to die!" shouted Drew. She crossed her fingers and hoped it wasn't her.

Doc looked very nervous.

Suddenly, Argost appeared with a flourish, out of seemingly nowhere. "Hellooooooo!" He smacked himself on the temple, and shook his head. "Oops, my mistake. I meant to say my traditional greeting phrase, greetings and bienvenue!"

"What are you doing here, inexplicably, Argost?" Doc questioned aggressively.

"I'm capturing cryptids for my delightful television program, which I'm certain you're all familiar with already, and I don't have to speak the name of several hundred times over, every time we meet," responded Argost. "I don't know why it is we always meet like this, Mr. Saturday, and family. It seems so...terribly convenient."

"Tell me about it," Doc muttered.

Argost's eyes flicked to his manservant, and soon to be horrendously out of character seme-kun lover bishonen-man...thing, Munya. "Munya," he uttered, and pointed at the dancing beast.

Munya growled. He jumped towards the beast. He prepared to take it down. But, alas, he was struck by a heart attack, and died. Tragically. The beast continued to dance around while screeching.

Argost gasped, and caught his fallen manservant-lover. "OH, THE TRAGEDY!" he cried out.

"Well, there it is," Drew confirmed. "Who bet on the spider-guy?"

"I bet on Dad," Zak whined. "I was so sure of it."

"I bet on Fiskerton," Doc muttered.

Everyone exchanged their winnings and losses.

Argost began to sob hysterically. Eventually, he ceased. He pocketed a bulky wad of cash that appeared from a random offstage hand. He pulled out his script, and checked it.

"Well, that was disconcerting. Good thing I only have to do it..." He trailed off while reading. His eyes widened in disbelief. "WHAT? Five hundred and seventy six more times?!" he yelled. He shook his head. "Where is my STUNT DOUBLE?"

With that, he walked off into the shadows, from whence he arrived.

THE END


End file.
